Entertainment Purposes Only
by Fuzzy Necromancer
Summary: An alternate ending fanfiction, wherein Alice gets her own ideas about destiny, unusual foods are consumed, and we find out why the Cheshire cat smiles. Contains weight gain, graphic violence, and egg whites. Do not read this fanfiction if pregnant.
1. Chapter 1

Once one got past the distressing crunching sound, and remembered which ones belonged to one's hands, the buttered fingers could be a savory treat. Alice followed up the literal finger food with large scoop of crème brule and a long gulp of wildberry juice. She followed that with a distinctly unladylike burp.

The moment of silence in the White Queen's opalescent dining room conjured up an awkward pause years ago and a world away.

"I said _sip_ your tea, not slurp," her mother sighed. Alice nodded and set down the cup. At the nearby table, Hamish tried to unstuck a teaspoon from his nose. His friend used the cup to suggest something graphic that young gentlemen shouldn't know about. "Honestly, you can be so uncivilized sometimes."

Alice leaned over the white tablecloth and carefully drew in just enough tea to coat her tongue.

"Won't you sit up straight?" Her mother fanned herself and looked heavenward.

"Yes mummy," Alice said. Hamish finally dislodged the spoon and used it to heap sugar into his tea. His companion pounded the table, then squeaked out a small burp. Alice swallowed another drop of bitter tea and reached for the sugar tongues.

"That's nothing," Hamish squawked. He let loose his own eruption of gas and burst into self-gratified giggles.

While Alice stirred in the sugar, a servant glided in with a silver tray, piled with every biscuit imaginable. Chocolate and plain formed chessboard patterns, mounted with near-crumbs lost under an avalanche of icing. A wall of lady fingers ringed the fresh-baked cross-section of heaven.

"Chocolate gives me wind," Hamish's friend announced proudly, grabbing a fistful of chocolate-covered biscotti. Hamish loaded up the plate and stuffed a few lemon bars in his pockets when he thought himself unobserved.

"Some decent table manners could-oh dear." Her mother stared over her shoulder, following the shrieks to the hedge maze. "I'm afraid your aunt has gotten into the catnip again. Please do behave yourself while I sort this out." She shook her head rose to her feet. She gave Alice one last stern look before power-walking towards the small knot of chaos.

"Imogene! Geeny, dear!"

Alice sipped her tea and dabbed her lips with a napkin. She hadn't quite formed the thought then, but she could tell mother worried about her. Aunt Imogene had strong connections and understanding servants. Her live-in companion would level her wrath and censure at anyone who so much as whispered the word "sanitarium."

"Urp!" Hamish thumped his midriff. From his unseemly grin and the other boy's slouch, he had won the burping contest with that tiny eruption. His opponent tried top it, but only succeeded in a strained expression that turned to alarm. "Blimey!" Alice listened to her stomach rumble and lapped at the cooling tea.

"-with enough washings. Sorry again," Mother called over her shoulder. "I'm terribly sorry about that."

Alice sipped and nodded.

"That's much better," she said, with a relieved smile. Alice tried to return it. At the adjacent table, another young gentleman introduced himself to the first two, and the burping contest began anew.

Up in the heavens, a cirrus cloud drifted into view. It provided something more interesting than her peers and better looking. The moment she made out one shape, it changed, twisting in the wind. The edges of a long scroll grew into wings, the handle stretched into a neck, and a draconic fiend spread itself against the sky. Just before it could descent to reek ice-white terror, glaring with eyes of flame, the figure shrank, crumbling into a cream-filled biscuit sandwich.

"M'lady?" The sharply dressed servant raised the tray. The baked delight at its center perfectly matched the white wisp in the heavens.

Alice smacked her lips, then hesitated and glanced at her mother. "May I, please?"

Mother smiled and gave her an indulgent pat. "Of course darling. Take as many as you want."

Alice reached up and scooped two handfuls onto her plate. Her mother almost concealed a look of disgust. "You know, you really shouldn't take more than you can eat, dear."

"Don't worry, I'll eat them," Alice chirped, cramming a stack of Milanos into her cheeks. She crunched twice, then forced the sweet mass down. Noticing the pained expression on her mother's face, she dabbed her mouth with a napkin and took another microscopic sample of tea.

She stared down at the selection. These round ones with jam centers could be soldiers, and that would make the chocolate-covered ones cannons, or maybe naval units, if she dunked them in her tea. The lemon bars could be the opposing army. It didn't matter, however. This war had only one victor, Alice the hungry Iguanodon.

"Do you really want so much?" her mother asked. The tone of voice contained the answer. Alice sighed, nibbled a shortbread, and wet her lips with more not-totally-dreadful tea.

"I'm still the champion!" Hamish crowed. "Alice! I say, Alice!" he waved his hand while she tried not to see him. He leaned over, screwed up his eyes, and belched, then he straightened up. Mother shook her head, and spared Alice an ounce of sympathy, for which she received a genuine smile.

"I'm pretty impressive, aren't I?" chuckled Hamish, taking the lack of open rudeness for encouragement.

Alice sipped another measure of tea. One of Mother's friends drifted near, engaging her in a boring conversation about clothes and marriages. Alice turned around to face Hamish.

"No," she said. She took a deep breath and put to use a skill she'd practiced, in private, for two years. **"Braaawp!"**

Of course, her mother might have noticed the saucers rattling anyway. However, Alice had the bad fortune to exercise her talents at the precise moment when every conversation in the courtyard dropped low. As the echoes faded, she felt every pair of eyes either zero on her or rewrite such indecencies out of the world.

"Alice! I'm shocked! What do you say?"

Alice tried to say "excuse me," but found she hadn't used up all the gas. Her mothers face went from indignation to cold fury.

Alice sipped her tea, wiped her face with a napkin, ate a crumb, dabbed again, and folded her hands in her lap. The silence seemed to drag for hours. Alice made the mistake of trying to fill it, as she contemplated her cookies.

"What if they served real fingers, instead of vanilla cookies?"

Her mother put her face in her hands. "We're leaving. Just, give me a moment. "

Though her mother never mentioned it aloud, she feared that Alice might take after her aunt, and then-

The shiver jerked her back to the present. Her face felt too hot, and her clothes felt too tight. She squirmed in her seat and looked down at the ivory fork.

"You're welcome," the White Queen said, with a radiant smile. Her calm, soothing voice cooled away most of the red-hot embarrassment.

"It's good to see the cooking here agrees with you," the Hatter said. "Though, I've never heard cooking disagree, except when the Red Queen took it into her head to argue with the tadpoles." He blinked, one eye at a time, and shivered. "More tea?"

Alice relaxed. Tomorrow, she would face the dread and might of the Red Queen's army, and play out the part that capricious destiny had set for her. Tonight she could eat, drink and be merry.

A pawn sidled up with a tray of vanilla-coated biscuits. She loaded her plate, dunked one in her tea, and slurped.


	2. Chapter 2

Alice sighed and popped another wildberry tart into her mouth. The bandersnatch moaned in sympathy, then returned its head to a water dish the size of a small pool.

"The waiting is the worst part," she confided. Upon a final double-check, the Oraculum said that the Frabjous Day wouldn't come about just yet. The preordained waiting period seemed longer than a month of Sundays. The white queen's chessmen had polished their weapons. The vorpal sword had gleamed in its corner. The red queen, too, had stayed her move to crush the rebellion, presumably because her spies read the Oraculum and knew that total defeat and rains of angry badgers awaited any side which attacked before the Frabjous Day.

Alice set aside her empty plate and grabbed another. "Or maybe the great big monster coming down and turning you into a dark patch on the ground with its terrible flame is the worst part." The bandersnatch nuzzled her shoulder and grunted.

Waiting had upsides. She'd dined on delicacies unknown to any Londoner, taken tea with the Hatter, learned fencing from the Dormouse, and engaged Chessur in lengthy debate on the difference between philosophical truth and tangible reality. Each day contained so many teatimes that they barely found space for supper, lunch, and breakfast.

Her stomach gurgled, and she found herself staring at a row of empty plates. Hadn't they been full moments ago? She frowned at the bandersnatch, gnawing on a bone.

"It's time!" the March Hare screamed, bounding into her room. "The jabberwock flies! The cards advance! Blood, death, and war are upon us! Get into the bloody armor before we all die and fry!"

Alice shot out of her seat with a loud rip. She hardly noticed the cool air on her bare skin as the addlebrained rodent sprang about. Her tattered skirts flapped as she bolted for the door.

"I just thought you should know, I'm going to tell you that when it's time," the hare panted, chasing after her. "You'd better get to bed. You'll need your sleep for the battle tomorrow."

The hair ran back down the alabaster corridors, pausing to pop into other rooms and deliver very early alarms. Alice waited until she could hear over the thunder of her own heart. The sound of chaos echoed further down the halls, and chandeliers shuddered.

Alice ran back to pat the bandersnatch. The warm fur under her skin soothed her nerves, and she worked away the last of her jitters by rubbing its tummy until it's leg thumped.  
"Sweet dreams," she whispered into one tattered ear, before striding off to her moonlit bedroom.

Moonlight slanted in through the window. She sat down on a bed large enough to play rugby on and soft enough to swim through. Somebody had left a large pitcher of warm milk on the nightstand. A card beneath it read "Take as needed before bedtime. Contains no spit, fingers, or horsefly urine."

Alice took a long gulp and smacked her lips. She bounced up and down on the mattress. She pulled up the covers, closed her eyes, and lay awake.

Why?

The eternal question surfaced, always lurking between rest and sleep. Why did they have to wait? Couldn't they have as much luck fighting one day as they would another? Sure, the army took time to prepare, but they seemed as ready as they would get, and if the queens had a contest of champions, what difference would an army make?

Why had tweedledum betrayed them? That took everyone totally by surprise. He'd run off with the Oraculum, but they already had all the important dates down, and if the white queen won as fortold, then she could just take it back. Did it hold any more arbitrary prophecies?

Alice opened her eyes and regarded a spot on the ceiling. Why did she have to slay the jabberwock? The White Queen might have her vow to harm no living creature, but that didn't apply to her subjects. Alright, the armor didn't fit animals. Tweedledee, while very keen, had the general shape, athletic ability, and reasoning skills as an infected neck boil. Surely, though, somebody else in Underland might squeeze into the suit of armor. If the vorpal sword did all the work, and just needed somebody to hang on, as the Hatter mentioned, then shouldn't anyone make a worthy wielder?

Alice closed her eyes again. The monstrous cloud loomed before her, transforming into a fanged, scaly nightmare made flesh. She opened her eyes, and took in the lacy room around her.

Why did they even need to bother with this trial by champion? Couldn't Chessur just sneak into the Red Queen's room at knight and conk her swollen head with a stale baguette? Maybe she just didn't want to face a foe with a sneeze more devastating than cannon fire, but it seemed an awfully roundabout way of toppling an empire.

She turned over and scratched at the tight cloth around her midriff. No wonder she couldn't sleep, she'd forgotten to change into nightclothes. She climbed out of bed and all-but tore off the restricting garments, then rummaged around the wardrobes for the roomiest nightdress she could find. Alice took another long drink of the milk and crawled back into bed.

This imperious scroll just didn't make any sense. Other people might claim the whole of Underland failed to make sense, but Alice could see the thread of rightness in it. Some people wasted away when they drank enough noxious things, and mother always said coffee stunted your growth, so why shouldn't the right mixture shrink a person down? By the same token, people who ate too much cake tended to grow out, and enough red meat and vegetables could make a person grow up over time, so just a different kind of cake might cause growth.  
Why shouldn't animals talk? The could signal danger, with barks and yowls, or happiness, with purrs and nuzzles. Day-to-day experience suggested that Hamish's horse knew it's business a lot better than Hamish did. Cats always seemed to vanish and reappear, usually right underfoot when one had a great load of fragile things in one's arms. It seemed no surprise that a Chessur pulled of the same trick.  
Why did a piece of magical paper know the precise order of fate? Other papers might hold knowledge, but you could see where it came from. The laws came from the government, the bible came from the church, and Hamish's guide to tortoise-hunting came from severe inbreeding. She couldn't follow the Oraculum to its source and ask "why?"

Why should she marry Hamish? Maybe because her marriageable age would slip away, and maybe because he had financial stability, but mostly, everyone said she must. They didn't even say it, for that matter. They assumed it.

Why would she fight the jabberwock tomorrow, with armor shining, vorpal sword in hand? Maybe because somebody had to do it, but mostly, the Oraculum said she must.

Alice drained the last of the milk, then slid under the covers. Questions chased each other in circles. She sat up.  
"Biscuits," she muttered. "I should have biscuits with my milk." She pulled on her slippers and crossed the cold flagstones. "Maybe some tarts, too, and a bit of cured ham, and cucumber sandwiches." Her stomach growled as she started down the two-hundred and seventeen stairs to the kitchen. She might as well grab some spotted dick and a slice of pineapple right-side-up cake, after going to all the trouble.

At least she wouldn't have to fight the jabberwock in a corset.


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

"I do," Alice sighed. The words seemed to come from far away. She barely felt the ring on her finger, or Hamish's wet kiss.

The rice hovered in the air for a moment. She felt cold inside, but it would all work out for the best. Any sensible woman could work around a husband like Hamish, and it would make her parents happy.

Aunt Imogene rushed up to catch the bouquet. She squealed with delight and caught Alice in a tight hug.

"Oh dear, I'm so happy for you." She sniffed. "I promise you'll be first on the guest list the day Prince Windsor finds a way to marry me without losing the throne."

Alice nodded, and turned off into the hedge maze. She wandered through thorny bushes, the white roses glowing in the moonlight, red ones still dripping with paint.

She hadn't made the right choice, not exactly. Choice didn't enter into it. Destiny was destiny, and you can't fight fate.

The Hatter stepped out from the shadow of an oak. The White Queen emerged behind him, wearing her crown and a roll of lavatory paper.

"Good morning," he whispered. "I've come to tell you, goodbye, and hello."

Alice smiled for a moment, then caught the tear in his eye. "It's my size, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Size and shapes never come out right, when you don't fit in. I blame the Oraculum, and the lack of hat pins." The clouds whipped past the sky. "I can't stay for long. We're all very grateful, and I plan to futterwacken as soon as this rheumatism clears up."

He handed her a black silk hat. "I'm sorry," he sighed.

The White Queen cleared her throat. "If it's any help, the looking glass still has an answer."

Alice strode back to the wedding reception. The tears just wouldn't come. "I saved Underland, and all I got was this stupid hat."

Hamish laughed in the distance. Alice forced her way through the hedge, and saw him dancing with somebody else.

"Get your claws off my husband!" she cried.

The jabberwock swayed across the ballroom with her husband clutched in its claws. It winked one flaming eye at her. "Weilder, you waited far too long. He's a rich man and a fabulous kisser. Even the vorpal sword never danced so divinely."

Hamish leered back at her behind his heart-shaped eyepatch and ebony locks. "Really, Alice, how could you expect me to remain faithful to a big fat iguandon?"

Alice stared at her spike-shaped thumbs and felt the horn on her nose. She turned to her father for support.

"I thought better of you than this, Alice," he sighed. The disappointment in his voice stung more than any reproach.

Alice took of her hat, then read the words inside the brim. _Wake up._


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

After the sight of Hamish and the jabberwock kissing, the bloated face of Tweedledee came almost as a relief.

"Good morning Alice! I just thought I'd wake you up before the March Hare does."

"Oh, thank you," Alice said. The sticky threads of dream clung to her mind until daylight dissolved them. "Is breakfast ready?"

"You've got to get dressed at once!" he said, pointing at the ivory knights by her door.

Alice looked down. Her nightclothes felt so comfortable and loose. Then she remembered the suit of armor and jumped out of bed.

She might have reached the armory faster if her escorts didn't move in L-shapes, although they gained some time by leaping straight through the walls. Her pulse raced and her stomach growled. Days of inactivity weighed her down as they raced through the shining castle.

The armory opened onto a little side-room with a bench, hooks, and a full-length mirror. Alice rested there, sword in one hand, trying to catch her breath. She shrugged out of her nightgown and stuck one leg into the suit.

She pulled the leg out, and tried a second time. Corsets might restrict, but they had some give and flexibility. Alice stared at the plump figure in the mirror. Her thighs looked twice as thick as the metal would allow for. Her midriff bulged out too far for even a corset to hide. Her chest seemed more developed, and a glance behind her proved that at least she would never need a bustle to enhance her figure.

Alice pinched the soft flab, formed by too much butter on her fingers, honey-sweet tea, and days of inactivity. She stared at the slender shape of the armor.


	5. Chapter 5

**V**

"What do you mean, it won't fit?" the White Queen asked, behind the changing room door.

"The armor doesn't fit," Alice said, biting back panic. "I mean, I'm too big."

"You can't be too big," the White Queen said, reasonably. "I whipped up that nice shrinking potion for you, remember?"

Alice stared at the mirror and sucked in her gut. It didn't make much difference. "I don't mean _big_ big. That is, I'm too fat."

The White Queen laughed. "Nonsense. You're just a growing girl."

Alice sighed and opened the door. "I've tried it a dozen times. The armor just won't fit," she jiggled a handful of pudge for emphasis. "See?"

The White Queen kept smiling as her eyes glazed over. She tilted her head, blinked, then held up her hands to form a square. Her eyes focused, and her pupils grew wide. Alice realized that she didn't have a great deal of clothing on, darted back inside, and tugged the nightgown over her. When she opened the door a minute later, the White Queen was still staring.

"I see," she said. "You don't think you'll fit in the armor then?"

Alice shook her head.

"You're definitely too full-figured to squeeze it on?" Her voice lacked any expression.

"I'm sorry," Alice said.

The White Queen blinked after another solid minute of silence. Her smile vanished.

"Don't worry. It's not your fault. I expect I have to blame the head chef." She wrung her hands.

"No, it's my fault, really," Alice began.

The White Queen lifted her hand for silence. "Please, don't interrupt me. I _know_ it's the chef's fault. He put too much sugar in the cookies, too many alligator tongues in the pies, and too much butter on the fingers." She reached over and patted Alice on the shoulder. "It's not your fault that the prophecy will fail, and my sister's armies shall crush us like easily crushed things. It's all down to that silly, silly chef." Her gentle hand on Alice's arm squeezed tight.

"The chef is to blame. The chef is to blame. It's all his fault." Her lip quivered.

"Off with his hat," she shuddered. "Hat. Yes, off with his hat. If he's such a silly chef that he can't keep the meals reasonably light, light enough to save the entire kingdom from tyranny, then we must take away his big, poofy, chef's hat."

Her smile sprung back into place, and she laughed. "Oh dear, what shall we do now? I suppose we could all surrender, and then as punishment, the queen would execute us, so we would die. Or we could try to fight a full battle, and the jabberwock would lay waste to us without an armored hero to wield the vorpal sword, so we all die." She laughed again, and gave Alice a hearty slap on the back. "No problem at all. I took an oath to harm no living thing. Off with his hat. We could see if the Oraculum, we should," the White Queen stuttered.

Her eyes had turned pure white. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath through her nose. She let it out through her mouth. She opened her eyes, ordinary ones, with pupils, if a bit watery.

"Excuse me for a moment. I just have to sort my rock collection fourteen times." She flipped a lock of Alice's hair and giggled. "I'll be fine."

The White Queen lifted her skirts and ran. Alice sunk to the floor under the weight of shame and dread.


	6. Chapter 6

**VI**

"It's my fault, your majesty," Tweedledee sobbed. "I should've kept a closer eye on my brother. I should have known he'd turn his coat and take the Oraculum over to her. If we still had it, we might," he blew his nose and collapsed in tears.

"There there. There. Don't cry," The White Queen said. "Don't worry your oddly shaped little head about it. I won't blame you."

"It's my fault," he wailed. His fists rang against the marble floor. "I aught to be hanged from the highest tower, and drowned, and then beaten within an inch of my life."

The White Queen shook her head. "Don't be silly. Do you really think I'd punish you for what your brother did? That would be unjust." She sighed. "I mean, I can't lash out at the closest person to a traitor, the one who might have lost us the whole war. That would be petty and vindictive."

She took a sip of tea. "What would I do? Command my servants to nail you to a table and slice into thin sheets with the vorpal sword, starting with your feet and working up, so you could watch, and then hang parts of you up all over the castle as an example to others?"

She laughed. Tweedledee stopped crying. "Of course not. That would be absolutely mad, and wicked, and wrong. Only my sister would think of doing something like that." She frowned at the spilt tea and shards of china on the floor.

"Oh dear, I think I'll need a new teacup."

Alice stepped forward and bowed low, painfully aware of the rolls bulging at her sides. "Your majesty, I have a suggestion."

The queen focused a piercing smile on her. She tried to find a way to phrase the idea without everything slipping away. Her thoughts unraveled under the unblinking gaze. The queen's pupil's looked smaller.

"Well, um, is there some sort of thinning potion you could mix? Or could you use the shrinking potion until I'm small enough to squeeze in."

The queen shook her head. "I'm afraid not, and even if I could shrink you, the armor just wouldn't fit you in a different way. Anyway, I'm sure the Oraculum would have mentioned such a potion." She paused, and grinned with hope. "Would you have some plan to steal it back from my sister?"

"Not quite," Alice stammered.

"Then I thank you, from the top of my heart, for your contribution, but I must attend a formal council of war." She spoke in a soft, reasonable voice which suggested a loud, unreasonable voice could follow. The White Queen banged a gavel and returned to writing on a lengthy scroll.

Alice bowed and hustled her fat behind out of the court.

She could hear the bishops and rooks mumbling behind her. The dormouse gave an impassioned speech with a few words ladies shouldn't even recognize, describing anatomically improbable forms of retribution.

Alice ran down to the kitchen, every step ringing with her weight. She felt bad about eating, but the damage was done. She couldn't fit in to the suit in time anyway. What difference would another slice of pineapple right-side-up cake make?

The palace chefs prepared a bigger feast than anyone inside could possibly eat. Armies of cooks fried whole herds worth of meat, baked bread from a whole field's worth of flower, and assembled gardens of sugary delight. After everyone at their fill, each night, leftover scraps from the tables of the poor were given out to feed the rich. Right now, every member of this culinary engine found useful employment elsewhere, and the plump girl spied an unattended row of fluffy yellow cakes, resplendent with blue frosting.

Alice grabbed the biggest knife she could find and cut the two-foot-wide cake into quarters. She took a second look around. Of course, she wasn't doing anything wrong, but she still felt embarrassed stuffing her face in public considering all the trouble her appetite got her into. Just to be safe, she snuck the cake into a side passage before devouring the first section with her bare hands.

"I prefer crab-cakes to pineapple," purred a low voice. Soft fur brushed against her legs, and Alice almost dropped the whole pastry as the Cheshire Cat materialized at her heels.

"Mph hmm roof?" Alice said, through a mouthful of frosting. She meant "what are you doing here? Didn't the queen want you at her council of war?"

Chessur's grin disappeared, leaving the rest of the cat behind. "I'm afraid I've been banned from formal councils in the White Queen's court, ever since, well, it was only a little misunderstanding, and I had nothing to do with it really,"

While the cat continued his rambling denial, Alice licked the plate clean. The smell of cake filled her nostrils, and recalled the funny room leading into Underland.

"That's it," she whispered.

"-blameless as a bag of kittens. But, tell me, how is a raven like a writing desk?" The cat paced at a fourty-five degree angle to the floor.

"Cake got me into this problem, and cake will get me out of it," Alice said. She couldn't see the shining white walls or the cat's confused stare.

"You really are mad," the cat said, with more than a touch of admiration.

"Chessur, I've got an idea that just might save Underland." Her chest rose, then the air went out of her. "Only, I don't think the White Queen would be, quite, open to it. It doesn't involve the vorpal sword at all." Alice shivered. She had no desire to bring another suggestion to the White Queen, after she saw what the queen wrote down on her scroll.

_Oraculum, Vorpal Sword, Armor, Oraculum, Vorpal Sword, Armor, Oraculum, Vorpal Sword, Armor, Oraculum, Vorpal Sword, Armor, Oraculum, Vorpal Sword, Armor, Oraculum, Vorpal Sword, Armor, Oraculum, Vorpal Sword, Armor, Oraculum, Vorpal Sword, Armor, off with her h- Oraculum, Vorpal Sword, Armor, Oraculum, Vorpal Sword, Armor…_

"That sounds like a purr-fectly intelligent idea," Chessur said.

"But you haven't heard it yet." Alice said.

"I can just tell from that look in your eye. I'm behind you seventy-nine percent," one of his legs faded away, "but you might have some trouble getting support. Everyone here has a lot of stock in the Oraculum." He grinned. "It's sanity by numbers."

Alice frowned and fingered her navel. "Well, the bandersnatch will come along. I guess I'd need a ride like that, while I'm incapacitated. I don't need much, just access to the pantry, a large tent, and a few other things."

The Cheshire Cat curled up on her lap. She stroked its purple fur while she thought.

"I suppose Hatter would sign up with my plan. I mean, if I just followed the Oraculum, I'd never have rescued him. The dog owes me a favor, and I suppose the dormouse might join up as long as she gets to gouge some eyeballs."

Alice tickled the cat under the chin. Yes, that about covered it. Victory would be very sweet.


	7. Chapter 7

**VII**

The trip had not proved a comfortable one. After eating more cake than she'd ever stomached in her life, without milk, she'd ridden bareback on the bandersnatch all the way. Now, she felt too full to burp. Something solid might come out, and she could not afford that. The plan depended on Alice keeping down her lunch. Who could have imagined that eating lots of cake without getting sick would become a skill vital to the fate of a queendom?

"I feel as if I'm about to burst," Alice moaned.

"Take heart, milady," the Hatter said, patting her bulging gut very gently. "That rarely happens in these enlightened times."

Alice gurgled. She felt complex sugars thundering through her veins. Little things inside her that went "gloing" in the middle of the night kicked into gear, commanded to take a new function. Her toenails tickled and her hair itched. In between those regions, a mild ache spread across her body.

"Off with their heads!" the Red Queen bellowed.

"Onward, to death and glory!" the dormouse screamed.

The other voices faded into an indistinct roar of battle, muffled by the tent. Underneath her, the bandersnatch shifted and whined. Hearing its former mistress and the beast that had plucked out its eye must bring back bad memories.

"Hatter," Alice gulped, "could you," she panted for breath, "help me," she swallowed again, trying to quell the nausea "down?"

Nimble hands caught her, and the many colors of the Hatter's outfit swam before her. She focused half her energy on not tripping over the fallen tent, and the other half on not spewing undigested confectionary all over the handsome, if blurry, man supporting her.

Alice lowered herself to the ground with a controlled faint, canvas folds collapsing over her. She found her earlier thought wrong, when a huge, wet, belch ripped out of her and knocked off the Hatter's headpiece. He bent to retrieve it, and Alice couldn't help noticing the way he filled out his well-tailored pants. She didn't blush, because a rush of blood to the face proved impossible with a body so occupied with digestion. After dusting off his hat, the man doffed it again, bowed, and excused himself to join the fray.

The dull ache grew to throbbing. Her own pulse beat in time with advancing soldiers on both sides, the clang of armor, and the screams of the wounded. A hole in the canvas revealed a patch of sky, and the thick clouds moving across it reminded her of vanilla cookies. She wanted to sit up for a better view, but moving hurt too much.

Maybe they didn't need the tent that much. It might be considered vanity, or a needless vestige of overland modesty, but, well, there were hundreds of people out there! She saw half a rook go flying through the air. Off to her right, Tweedledee cried out "For the-" his words cut off with a clang of steel and a wet gurgle.

Alice's stomach churned and writhed, violet roses of pain flaring up everywhere. She might as well have swallowed a bucket of live lampreys. That wouldn't do the job, though.

The Jubb-Jubb bird screamed in the distance. A man in green leather staggered past her, waving his sword while blood streamed from his ears. He croaked out something like "for Iodine!"

Pain blinded her for a moment. The figure had gone, replaced with a pair of pawns slashing against a six of hearts. Alice remembered her life as a pawn. That ended now. No more would she bow to fate and authority. She'd die and rise from the grave as a beautiful butterfly.

Alice saw less red, inky blood from the cards, and more spurting white foam from the smashed bodies of chess pieces. She'd thought it hurt too much to move. Now it hurt too much _not_ to move. Her arms and legs thrashed about of their own accord.

The Hatter laughed, off in the distance, among the clang of armor and hatpin. It was a long, hollow laugh, the kind that turned quickly to sobs, or screams, or a death rattle.

Alice wanted to retreat from the pain, because change hurt. Instead, she embraced it, forcing her glands to pump, her blood to shift, and the things inside her to work their miracles. Good little girls fell into lives of domestic slavery. Bad little girls drew attention to themselves and wound up in madhouses. She had to become a brave iguanodon, for daddy's love, for queen and country.

Hot wind seared her face. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the great purple shadow with eyes of flame.

The pain peaked, and then vanished into another world. Alice Kingsleigh of London hurt more than she could imagine, but the right Alice felt only the soul-shuddering pleasure of power.

"Father taught me to believe six impossible things before breakfast," she said.

Her loose garment grew tight and burst. A thousand cries of bloodlust thundered through her head. Righteous fury clenched her fists and moistened her eyes.

"One, there's a potion that can make you shrink."

Alice rose to her feet like the wrath of God.

"Two, there's a cake that can make you grow."

Vertigo swam in her skull.

"Three and four, animals can talk, and cat's can disappear."

Carnage lay before her, warriors smashed or shredded, the barren ground thick with pink foam. Red cards ringed the shrinking patch of colorful warriors.

"Five, there's a place called Underland."

The army lay below her. Like all troubles, it grew distant as the moon.

"Six, I can slay the jabberwock."

She shrugged her head out through the hole in the tent as it shrunk around her. The jabberwock wuffled towards her, a terrible sight to behold. The teeth could bite. The claws could catch. Eyes of flame burned in a reptilian face, full of animal fury and inhuman cunning. It's neck and limbs moved with impossible grace. It was deadly and beautiful as a thunderstorm.

It was also slightly shorter than her.

Alice felt one more pang. A stomach that had felt stuffed to bursting seconds ago now clenched into a little knot of hunger.

"So, that's the six impossible things," she said, reaching into the tent's pocket.

"How about breakfast?"

The jabberwock took off and hovered over her. It still looked ferocious, but something in the curve of its neck suggested hesitation or recalculation.

Alice took a deep breath, chest rising. She leaned over the battlefield. They were, after all, only a pack of cards. She blew, and half the Red Queen's army scattered to the four winds.

The jabberwock glared down at her, eyes growing brighter. She smiled. Her stomach growled, and the nearest combatants staggered in the aftershock. She pulled the full-length mirror out of her pocket.

"Oh no, I've forgotten the vorpal sword!." She turned out her pockets, and let her head sag. "Whatever shall I do? I can't reach that flying beast."

The jabberwock warbled in triumph. The remaining cards advanced a new, careful to give Alice a wide berth.

The dormouse ran forward, drew a bow, and fired a volley of arrows. "Begone, fiend from the tower!" They all landed short, and the creature coughed out a mess of foaming spittle. It was laughing.

"Coward!" She shrieked, waving her sword. "Come down and fight!"

The jabberwock circled with great, slow sweeps. _Make that seven impossible things,_ Alice thought. _Those wings are far to slim to support such a weight. Is magic keeping them aloft, or are the laws of physics just more like suggestions here? Either way, they're pretty thin._

Alice uprooted a tree, swung it back, and hurled it at the jabberwock, aiming high. It gyred and gimbled out of the way with it's supple body, then growled at her, low and soft. The beast's voice tickled her innards. Its tone was so low she suspected the smaller people couldn't even hear it.

The creature swelled like a balloon, gathering air. No spark flashed in its mouth, but those dreadful eyes burned brighter. Alice whipped out the mirror.

The jabberwock fired. Lances of ultraviolet shot from its gaze, straight for her heart. The looking glass soaked them up and grew hot in her hands, vibrating. After an endless heartbeat, the nameless force rebounded on its originator. The jabberwock screamed as gloaming power burned a hole in its iridescent wing.

Another thunderbolt of agony shot through Alice. She staggered, imperiling friend and foe alike, then stood taller than ever. Her arms caught the crashing jabberwock like a lover.

Alice grinned. She rode the wave of power, unhinged her jaw, and let her throat stretch more than the rest of her. The smooth, sour scales slid down her esophagus like spaghetti. She hesitated, letting the howling head hang out of her mouth, and bit down hard.

It hit the top of the tower with a wet thud. The head bounced all the way down.

Fire seared through Alice's feet. She looked down to see the legion of cards, plunging their bloody spears at the skin between her toes. .Alice clenched her toes, squashing what she could, and shuffled back. A cramp started in her thigh, and the digestive juices worked hard to deal with another overload.

The Jubb-Jubb bird screamed again, its uncanny cry filling the ranks of the white queen with pain and panic. Alice crouched down, thumped her vast, distended belly, and put to use the skill she had worked so hard to learn.

First, her belch complete drowned out the shrieks of the Jubb-Jubb. Second, it blew away the remaining cards in the Red Queen's army. The few enemies it did not remove altogether it knocked prone and deafened.

With one lazy hand, Alice snatched the malicious bird. To her surprise, it didn't taste anything like chicken.

An inappropriate sense of bloated contentment washed over Alice. She made to resist it, but then saw the army, huddled together in one convenient spot. The handful of figures had broken off engagement with the White Queen's force to defend the Red.

Alice stretched, yawned, and laid herself down to rest. The howls of the enemy went silent.

After a moment's discomfort, she shifted and plucked out the sources of irritation. The Red Queen wailed in her right hand, and the Knave of Hearts squirmed in her left. She ignored the pompous ranting of the first, and directed her most pleasant smile at the Knave.

"Tell me, sir," she smacked her lips, "do you still like largeness?"


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII**

"And that is the way in which a raven is truly like a writing desk," the gentleman in leather told the Cheshire Cat.

Alice chuckled, then sighed. They had won the war, but not without cost. She'd personally dug the graves for Tweedledee and Tweedledum, brothers separated by strife and reunited by death. The March Hare, poor thing, had fallen in the first minute of battle.

"You have the heart of a true warrior," the dormouse said, after a wistful glance at the Hatter. Her right eye watered, and her left socket still bled.

"And the same to you," Alice said. She thought back to her classical studies. "I'm sure a seat waits for you in the All-father's hall."

The mouse twirled her tail bashfully and took a sip of something strong. She'd refused any medical treatment as an insult to her courage, but dealt with the pain in her own way. Alice wished she could do something for her ally.

She felt something caught between her teeth. Alice reached up, fished around, and produced a heart-shaped eye patch.

"I'm sure your wound does you honor, but, well, I thought this might look better on you." She grimaced. "I'm sure it can be washed."

The dormouse bowed solemnly. "Treasure from the slain is always a badge of armor. You are a generous soul as well."

Alice blushed and sunk into silence. A playing card stepped up and offered to refill her barrel of blue champagne. She nodded, and tossed a handful of pineapple right-side-up cakes into her mouth.

A familiar friend came bounding towards her, across the whitewashed floor of the Red Queen's ghastly palace. "Bandersnatch!" she cried, arms wide open.

The non-frumious beast barked at her shins happily. Alice bent down and lifted the creature to her face, letting it smear her with great wet bandersnatch-kisses. After she had fulfilled her quota for slobber, Alice set down the creature on her lap and stroked it. The creature rolled over, and she obliged it by rubbing it's tummy until the animal shook.

"I don't think any of my potions can take effect," the White Queen had said, "not after such a massive dose, and once the jabberwock flesh started to digest, the change rather solidified. Of course, I'll do my best to research an antidote for you," she'd added, hastily.

"Oh no," Alice had replied. "I wouldn't dream of putting you through all of that trouble. I think I'll manage the burden."

"Alice dear!" The Hatter called. "Would you join me for a celebratory spot of tea, and some vigorous futterwackening?"

Alice strode over. A frog and pawn struggled over with a modified bathtub and began pouring tea into it. "How many lumps, milady?"

Alice sucked a finger. "I think I might cut back on my sweets, so seventy-five should do." She smiled. "Thank you very much."

The frog bowed and dumped the sugars in, while the pawn stirred. Alice crouched down next to the tea table. Thackery's seat lay empty. She blinked away the tears.

The Hatter sighed and shook his head. "This is a grand day indeed, and not half so grand as you, but I fear the familiar predicament weighs upon my heart. You are always too small or too tall." 

"Oh, I don't know about that," Alice said. "Maybe I'm the kind of woman I'm supposed to be, and everyone else is just a tad tiny."

The Hatter frowned, and then burst into chuckles. "I'd never thought of it that way. It still seems an utterly mad idea, but, as you said, all the best people are mad."

Alice nodded. "Speaking of madness, my dear, crazy genius of haberdashery, how in Underland do you intend to commit futterwacken and take tea at the same time?"

"With this, of course," the Hatter said. He smirked and exchanged his battered top-hat for a shiny new one. An ingenious system of covered pots and tubing allowed him to sip tea while upright, hands free, without spilling a drop.

The Hatter rose from his seat and spun around, legs jerking in anatomically impossible positions, shimmying along, and sucking down hot, sweet tea. Alice clapped with delight and giggled at the absurd sight.

The fighter in green leather skipped out from a nearby corridor and ran straight for Alice. A roll of bandages covered his ears.

"Alice, milady, allow me to pay my respects to the biggest hero in all of Underland!"

She bent and let him shake her fingertip. "I fear you have me at a disadvantage," she said.

The green man looked crestfallen. "Oh, of course. You can't be expected to remember everyone, but, I had hoped my true love might have mentioned me to you."

Alice frowned and sipped tea. "Your true love?"

"Indeed," the man nodded, and ate up the last vanilla biscuit, to the Hatter's annoyance. "I suppose she can't be fully forthright about the arrangement. I fear I've rather ill-used my sweet Geeny. She has such a trusting nature."

The tea-tub crashed to the floor, scouring bystanders with a wave of Earl Rainbow tea. "You're Aunt Imogene's prince?"

His eyes lit up. "Oh, she has mentioned me!" He hugged her ankle, and then pulled back. "She is a most amazing woman. Charming, light of heart under so many burdens of the soul, and of course," he made some complicated gestures, "very _inventive_, with almost inhuman endurance, and a deep, wet-"

His words cut off as Alice crammed her pinky into his mouth.

"Charming, I'm sure, but I'd prefer not to hear the, er, full details of your personal life." Alice shuddered. "Just, clarify this one point for me, you are the handsome prince of whom Imogene speaks? The one who can't marry her without renouncing claim to the throne?"

She removed her finger. The man coughed, sputtered, and sighed. "Well, sort of."

Alice raised an eyebrow.

The man grinned sheepishly and shuffled his feet. "Well, please don't tell her this, but, I'm actually only a duke."

"Your secret is safe with me," Alice said, trying not to laugh.

McTwisp hurried forward brandishing a trumpet, and played a fanfare. He was followed by a row of cards and chessmen, bleaching a red carpet as they unrolled it. Along this carpet hurried the White Queen.

"Alice, you have saved the Queendom, in spite of the Oraculum's leading interpretation. Our gratitude is great for you." Everyone lifted a drink and cheered. "You will be remembered in Underland for centuries to come."

More cheers followed, along with a distant shouts of "take it off!" and "you're not funny."

The White Queen only shook her head and gave a helpless grin.

"Sorry," Alice heard the dormouse murmur. "I think I've drink a bit too much to had."

The White Queen resumed as if no interruption had occurred. "Alice, the time has come for you to make a choice." She offered a crystal vial, filled with glowing purple fluid. "This contains baobab tea, powdered kidney stone, and an extract from the jabberwock's pineal gland. One sip will take you back to the world you came from."

Alice cleared her throat.

"No thank you, your majesty."

"Only you can de-what?" The White Queen stammered. "You're quite sure?"

"Well," Alice said, "the problem is, I'm much to large to fit down the rabbit hole. No amount of corsetry and emetic could shrink me small enough to manage, and until I know a sure way to get back to Underland, I'd rather not leave."

The White Queen blinked, then nodded. "Fair enough. In that case, we've got a busy day ahead, what with high tea, the celebratory feast, another tea time, the granting of boons, tea, a gift of your weight in treasure from the royal treasury, tea, the selection of volunteers for your harem, and more tea."

The White Queen motioned for Alice to lower her hand. She put out her palm, and the radiant royal stepped onto it. Once Alice had lifted the queen to her face, she whispered,

"Alice, thank you for saving the kingdom, and for saving me," she shivered, and just a spark of hot-metal white flared in her pupils, "from myself." She leaned over to lay a chaste kiss upon Alice's face, and then floated gently to the ground.

Alice touched her cheek and felt a slight blush creep over her. An odd sensation tingled down her spine, and she considered the wisdom of serious introspection before choosing the harem.

"I'd say you handled that situation pretty well," said a voice just in front of her. Alice had to cross her eyes to see the disembodied grin just above her nose.

"Thank you, Chessur." Alice said. She tried not to sneeze as the violet cat padded along her upper lip.

"Do you want to know why I'm always smiling?" it asked.

Alice nodded as vigorously as she could without dislodging her furry friend. The animal crept along to her ear.

"I'm the only person who thought to read the _back_ of the Oraculum. Shall I tell you what's printed there?"

"Yes, please!" Alice said. The furry head plunged into her ear, and he whispered the answer.

_Magickal Scroll of Prophesy, from Boffo Novelty Items, Ominous Birds, and Literary Furniture, 10__th__ Egg Street, Un Lun Dun. For entertainment purposes only._


End file.
